


You Wreck My Heart in a Good Way

by jetblacklilac



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 01:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15523413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetblacklilac/pseuds/jetblacklilac
Summary: Margaery's heart is torn apart and broken. She has a plan to get her revenge. And maybe, some laws are broken on the road of healing from a breakup.





	You Wreck My Heart in a Good Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [robbsmargaery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/robbsmargaery/gifts).



> sam, darling, i love you and your dedication to this ship. i will always try to honour them

_ That lying sack of shit! Bambi, steal your mother’s credit card, book me an earlier flight and I swear to the gods above I’ll wring his neck with his lungs! _

 

Margaery curled up even more on the bed, sniffling, and her other hand held the fiftieth tissue on her nose. The silky lavender sheets were dotted with her tears and it all but slid along her legs as lazy currents of a sea. She dug her face in the pillow beneath her head, her dark hair wildly splayed about but she doesn’t care in this moment.

 

She took in a trembling breath before replying. “I’m so stupid, Sansa. Oh my god, I just  _ stood  _ there and watched him make out with Prue!” Her voice was muffled as she tried to wipe the tears with her pillow, throwing the tissue on the floor. Now anyone who lasted ten minutes in a conversation with her would immediately know Margaery isn’t the type to carelessly litter her bedroom floor, or to spend a Friday night sobbing while phone calling her best friend.

 

But, what else is supposed to do when her first boyfriend cheated on her in a cliché jock oriented party?

 

Before this horrifying incident, she’s unconventionally excited to be in a stranger’s house, be surrounded with drunken high school students with stale chips and potent alcohol as food and drinks. Getting permission from her strictly tradition parents was tricky so she decided to tell them she’d be with Sansa for a night. What they didn’t know was that her best friend was states away in some week long arts competition the principal almost begged her to join for the school’s reputation. She even bought a new dress for the occasion, a lovely striped blouse tucked into a beige skirt and tan boots. Now, her blouse is replaced and she wore a loose cotton shirt, her pajama pants are favourable.

 

“You’re not stupid your IQ is like 150 at least. He’s the dumbass! The moment I see him again, I will kick him in the fucking face.” Sansa was screaming, furious as any concerned friend would be.

 

Margaery rolled on her back, staring at the ceiling, constantly sniffling. Then, a devious idea wormed its way in her mind, pushing past the hard drilled politeness and ladylike manners her parents instilled in her. Gone was the sadness eating away at her bleeding away, stripped by this twisted root finding home in her mind.

 

“Sans, you know how you always leave spare materials in my garage because my house is closer to the art studio you work at than yours and you always forget a thing or two?” She innocently reminded, so out of topic but its within range when Sansa snatched up the implication.

Sansa giggled madly.  _ Yes! My spray paints are particularly brand new. So if you needed a, ah, creative outlet for your emotional turmoil, you’ll owe me fifty bucks. _

 

She snorted in the manner Mother wouldn’t approve. “Fifty? My good friend, I’ll give you my trust fund if this will make me happy after tonight.” Her voice was hoarse from all the screaming into her pillow.

 

_ I thought I was your best friend. Anyways who will go with you on this wild journey? Someone who can probably lie better than your sweet self. _

 

Though growing up with her parents and their massive interconnections and influence, the children of her friends didn’t really intrigue her or sparked any genuine interest. They were all alike, wealthy, beautiful, and vapid. She isn’t putting herself above them but sometimes, their farce politeness and saccharine smiles can stretch Margaery’s smile until it ached the next day. It’s tiring to force oneself in being interested in mundane and predictable topics.

 

Her eyes widened, all except for one.

 

She bit her lip to stop from squealing. Sitting up and leaning against the bed’s headboard, she plays with the ends of her hair, relieved it from the high ponytail style she had put earlier on this evening. “I don’t know he might still be in the party, French kissing some cheerleader as all football players seem to like.”

 

It’s wholly reassuring how Sansa can comprehend her riddles in the years of their friendship. They’ve become mind readers towards each other.

 

_ I’m sure he’ll make an exception when it comes to you. By the way, did he see you at the party? _

She recalled seeing Robb, wearing his letterman jacket and giving out high fives to any boy within his radius, wearing his signature blindingly warm smile that made  _ her  _ blood simmer as well. And somehow, in the midst of booming music and the sea of people, he managed to notice her and gave a personal smile. With a twist of her mouth, she noted how softer it was when he gazed at her.

 

Their moment was cut short when Joffrey tugged at her hand, urging her to watch him win beer pong; which he did. His audience fervently applauded their quarterback for winning yet another arbitrary victory. When she turned her back, hoping to be subtle, she scans the cacophonous area for Robb, to see at least one amiable and sober person in the room. She gingerly sipped from the plastic cup Joffrey gave her, nose crinkling at the bitterness, far different from the tentative sips from sherry and champagne she has to drink in galas.

“He did. And I sort of, maybe, kind of but really honestly did, look for him. Then I had to search for Joffrey as he disappeared when he won that stupid beer game.” She grumbled.

 

_ And then you found him shoving his tongue down that Prue person, huh? _

 

“I do  _ not  _ need the reminder. Anyways, I’ll call him and text you the sequence of events that’ll follow afterwards. Thank you so much for listening to me cry for over two hours over my first heartbreak. Love you, Sans.” Margaery said, sliding away from her bed, gather all the trash and dumps them in the bin.

 

_ Love you too. I await the updates on your night of righteous justice. _

 

She retrieved a lilac hoodie, at the bottom of her wardrobe because Mother doesn’t like clothes that are, in her words, “common”. Digging even deeper in her closet, she found a pair of sneakers, the ratty kind Mother would’ve burned if she saw Margaery wear them with the imported high fashion things she buys for her. All in all, her outfit could’ve induced a sermon that could last for a year long. After emptying her school bag, everything seems to be in order.

 

Pulling away her messy locks into a ponytail once more, she sneaks into the living room. Thankfully, her parents are in their bedroom, sleeping soundly as their daughter quietly sneaks into the garage.

 

The surfaces of the cars shine under the fluorescent light; walls of grey seemed duller in the early morning. Margaery bent down on the floor, the borrowed jeans from Sansa scratching against the stony floor as she pulled a box from underneath a workbench with toolboxes of different sizes laid there. She opened the lid and true enough, spray paints, paintbrushes, and cans are stuffed in the box; the common materials Sansa almost always forgets.

 

Stepping outside of the garage and on the red bricked driveway, she calls someone she wouldn’t ever expect to at this time of night.

 

He answered within the first ring.

 

What answer before his concerned greeting is the booming sounds of music. So he hadn’t left it after the commotion she caused. She flexed her right hand, wincing at the memory of the bowl slipping form her fingers and satisfyingly slamming against Joffrey’s head.

 

_ Marg? Where are you? I think I tore Harry’s house apart in trying to find you! Tell me where you are and I’ll get you home right away. _

Her heart did tiny delighted skips at how worried he is; the crush she had on Robb never truly faded even when she dated the most popular guy in school. “I want you to meet you at the playground four blocks from my house. Twenty minutes after I end this call or I’ll do this alone.” The firmness in her voice could’ve snapped a diamond in half.

 

_ Do what exactly? Murder?  _ His words were of jest but anyone can practically see his frown and the would be adorable scrunch in the middle of his brows at processing her instructions.

 

“Taking his life would be too kind for the likes of him.” Margaery calmly replied and ended the call. Patting the pocket of the jeans and feeling the house keys, she walked the winding road that lead outside the gates and on the streets.

 

Everything was dead silent, not even an evening breeze sweeping through the leaves. Velvet darkness stretched out above her, with dotted and winking stars, with the moon in its silvery brilliances. Her steps made no sound and at times, she’d use it to her advantage in sneaking up to Sansa, giggling when the artist would scream in fright.

 

But now, she leans against the iron fence set around the metallic playground. No children played at this time, hours past midnight. She tensed when she saw two hovering lights on the main road but then she recognized the secondhand, remodeled car Robb was so proud to have.

 

She could almost hear Mother’s voice hissing in her ear, the talon of nails digging sharply into her shoulder in warning, in reminder of decorum and manners of a proper lady.  _ Don’t get in that car. Go back to your room and weep for your broken heart like any soft hearted person would do. _

 

_ That’s the thing, Mother, he didn’t break my heart.  _ She replied to the dark voice as she climbed in the front seat of Robb’ car.  _ Joffrey tore my heart out. _

 

“Robb.” Margaery greeted in peculiar normalcy, despite they’re sitting in his car in a Friday night, past her curfew.

 

He blinked, his eyes of ocean are more accentuated. He wets his lips and his hands drummed against the costumed leather steering wheel. “Margaery, where are we going?” It was comical that he was nervous with his darting eyes, rigid posture and how he regarded her with such an anxious expression.

 

“First, convenience store then as Sansa said, a night of righteous justice.” She answered in a simple tone like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The drive was short and Robb, being a gentleman as she is a lady, opened the door for her as well as the door of the empty store. Air conditioned made the air instantly cold, she clutched her hoodie tighter. She went to the back of the store, not being attended by the bored employee scrolling through her phone.

 

“Margaery, I-uh, fuck look Joffrey is an asshole and I’m glad you threw a bowl of chips at his face then spilled the nearest drink at him.” Robb said in a rushed manner it took a moment or two to fully comprehend his words. He scratched the back of his neck and gave a small but proud smile. “From what I hear, it was ceramic and he was passed out for at least an hour.”

 

Finding what she needed, she got the cartons of eggs. She balanced it before answering. “And where were you in that hour?”

 

His face softened impossibly. “I was looking for you. I-well…” He stammered a few more half-formed words, heat unfurling adorably on his cheeks. “And I kind of punched your boyfriend really hard. From his shouts, I think I broke his perfectly symmetrical nose.”

 

Margaery beamed brightly, her crush to this boy coming back with a vengeance it was hard to breathe for a second. She then handed him the cartons and together they walked to the counter.

As the sulking teen scanned the items, Margaery risked a glance at him. How beautiful his side profile is to her; the slant of his nose, the strong and cut sharp edges of his jaw, the stubbles running along his cheeks. Something Joffrey could never achieve was try to grow a beard and he seemed to do it effortlessly.

 

“Ma’am, bag or plastic?” A dull voice interrupted her musings.

 

“None. And here.” She handed the money and they were back in his car.

 

“I know what you’re going to do now. I’ve got to say, I’m surprised and thrilled with your intent.” Robb stated with amusement, backing the car and they were on the road once more. He turned the radio on, with some silly eighties ballad came bleeding through.

 

She clipped her seat belt and nodded. “Given the circumstance, I’m quite surprised as well.” She lifted her gaze form her fiddling hands to him, focused on the empty streets ahead of them. She didn’t even give him the address of her ex-boyfriend. It’s an effortless communication between them. A frustratingly adoring thing she will never tire of.

 

“You can just wait in the car, of course. I-I don’t want you compromised if I get caught.” Margaery managed to get out because of course amongst the myriad of turmoil bubbling in her, Robb has a reserved space in her mind as always.

 

He, in return, laughed. “I knew what you’ll be doing the moment I saw you pick up those eggs. I’m your sidekick for the night, sweetheart.”

 

_ And after this? What will you be to me?  _ The questions danced on the tip of her tongue but she refused to say then out loud. He has been a friend, civil acquaintance if anything. “Right well, I know his parents are gone for the weekend and I see his precious Chevy car is right on the garage.”

 

Margaery is precise in planning, a trait she might have inherited from her parents being vicious in court. She knows Joffrey won’t roll in a party with that shiny and new car, gifted from his father for reasons lost to her. He probably doesn’t want some random drunk vomiting on the deluxe sports car.

 

Robb offers to carry her backpack, saying how he was the muscles and she the brains of the operation. He parked the car then they both skillfully climbed over the iron gate; finding the spikes on the sides less intimidating when it actually helped them.

 

With purpose and confidence, they ambled to the closed gate of the garage.

 

“Now what?”

 

“We use Joffrey’s mother’s trust in me against him.” Margaery answered, finding the lock on the floor and used the duplicated key to unlock it. The tall blonde had taken a liking to her after the first night of introduction over dinner. She also secretly gave her a ring of keys to their house, saying how Margaery is a decent girl for her son and she absolutely trusts her.

 

_ Trust is a double edged knife and he’ll get the bad end tonight. _

 

Opening the lights, there was Joffrey’s treasure, maybe even more than his ego.

 

Margaery tossed him two cans, one of blue and the other green. She smirked, recalling how it was his favorite colors, gifted her pretty things in them. There was unison of hisses as they started their work, painting zigzagged pathways on the car’s surface. Mercilessly, even on the windshields, the trunk, but left the hood bare for a purpose.

 

She stood in front of the car, the usual place of make out sessions with him, after his practice when he’s fueled with adrenaline and his kisses are sloppy and hurried. Carefully, her arm bends as she spells out a word that befits the unofficial royalty of their school.

“How you manage to cursively write ‘cheater’ in that calligraphic penmanship of yours is beyond me.” Robb deadpanned. There, in the dead center of the once beautiful car, was an unmistakable word, prettily written in angry red colour. He caught the empty can without trouble and tossed it in her bag. He gave her one carton of egg and kept one for himself. “Now, the part two of fun.” He announced before smashing an egg against the windshield.

 

“Robb.” She hummed as she threw one egg on the roof, yellow liquid running a path downwards. 

 

“Do you know how to break in this model of car? The leather chairs are looking far too clean for me.”

 

“It’s a sixties model, vintage from the looks of the deck. I know one way.” Robb threw an empty can into the window, glass shattered and Margaery giggled in the most delighted manner. He grinned and popped the lock open. “I’ll key the surface while you do your thing.” He takes the keys from the pocket of her hoodie. As promised, the pointed ends of the keys created several parallel white lines along the car. He then dragged it from left to right below the word ‘cheater’ for emphasis.

 

Meanwhile, Margaery ungracefully discarded all her remaining eggs against the expensive looking chairs. The yolk ran brighter than the sun in this light, all oozing on the floor and she even got some of Robb’ so she can ruin the wooden radio installed here.

 

She took a step back, heaving labored breaths but a proud smile on her face. Everything is spent, the cans are safely hidden in her bag. She dropped the keys on the sole table and beckoned for Robb to follow her. And he did, like a faithful servant, and turned off the lights. She placed her bag on the front seat and turned to see Robb and confusion clouded her thoughts as he closed the door of his car.

 

Before she could thank Robb, stammer her half-finished though, Robb bent down and kissed her. A series of excuses ran through her mind.  _ He’s drunk. It’s the adrenaline running through us and we have to dispel it somehow. He pities me. _

 

The rest she can’t remember when Robb’ mouth moved slower, coaxing her to follow and now she does. Eyes closing, hands grasping the short strands, and standing on her feet to try and match the intended sweetness of it all, she smiled through his kisses when he pressed her against the side of his car. But the thing is, Joffrey was sweet, deceptively so, soft and kind. And Margaery needed to forget about him.

 

She kissed him harder, the hand running through his hair lets her nails scrape against his scalp that she greedily inhaled his gasps like the finest wine in the world. His hands set tendrils of subtle warmth to her insides, worming inside her hoodie and stroke her clothed waist, and continuing their fervent kisses.

 

Somehow, their kisses were sweeter than anything her tongues have encountered, making this even  _ more  _ addicting it was maddening and spurred the teenagers even more. Perhaps it was because of how they adored each other, how their rough kisses contrasted greatly with the gentle caresses and sweeps of touches. More and more until it felt like a millennia has past and they were still at each other’s embrace.

 

Margaery broke the kiss, her chest heaving, the chill wind brushing against her heated face. “We-we might get caught if we stay longer.” Her voice, twisted in her want for him, utters her warning lower than she ever heard.

 

Robb nodded, his eyes dark as midnight, auburn locks splayed about too messily, and his mouth is red and plumper than usual. “Let’s go then.” He says before placing the gentlest of kiss on her forehead and rubbing her arm.

 

He bestowed an enamored expression, cheeks denting and his thumb swiping on the bumps of her knuckles. He melts even further when Margaery stands taller to kiss his cheek.

 

Startled, she realized it was an expression she never really saw Joffrey wear whenever they go on dates. Joffrey is kind, accommodating, but never affectionate where its deemed unnecessary and Margaery figured that’s how boyfriends act. But now, Robb isn’t even her anything and yet he has surpassed her assumptions about relationships with her ex.

 

The hurt recedes bit by bit, the more it dawns upon her how much she’s missing out. In her six months of dating, she felt like it was a chore in bestowing kisses and half-formulated banters. But she’d been wrong, Joffrey isn’t the idealistic teacher as well.

 

Is  _ this  _ love then? A small, hopeful voice whispered so softly but it felt loud beyond all other thoughts about betrayal and heartache.

 

_ That’s a question for another time. I’m tired. _

 

“Thank you.” She’s been trying to say the entire night.

 

Robb nods. “I would’ve done it alone too you know.” He interlaces their fingers together, dropping a rain of chaste kisses along her knuckles and that smile with the power to melt rocks into water. “I would’ve done this for you without a thought.”

 

And she does, much to her delight. Maybe  _ this  _ is love. 

 


End file.
